Let's Give Them Something to Talk About

***This post was started on Monday, but then I was crippled by the worst bout of food poisoning I've had in a long time. I'm back from the dead and wanted to finish my thoughts here***

We've been living here six months and this is the first time our lives will be somewhat disrupted because of the French going on strike! Quite remarkable to make it that long, I would say when striking is the national pastime/competitive sport for the French. Tomorrow's strike will effect us because all the school teachers are going on strike and Lily won't have school!

Lily is holding what I call the "the communication" book. It's a blue book which comes home from school with her every once in awhile. In it are pages with photocopied notes glued to them. The parent is supposed to read the note, sign the notes, and then return the book with the child the next day.

This note was sent home on Friday. Phil and I read it together and he told me there was going to be strike this Tuesday. The note also mentions something about "pique nique" for the kids who normally eat the school provided lunch (pique nique is the French way of saying bring your own lunch). We were really confused.

Today, I think I finally have figured out what's happening tomorrow. And I learned all this by HAVING MY FIRST EVER CHAT WITH ONE OF THE OTHER MOTHERS!!! I had the perfect opportunity to finally open my mouth and practice some French as we waited together for the kids to be dismissed at the end of the day (she seems friendly and normally says "bonjour" to me). I carefully crafted the French words in my head so I could ask her the question about the strike. And then, I just blurted it out...and she smiled and answered me!

So it's a huge break though! (No one has really talked to me since we started going to the school at the first of the year...they stare and sometimes smile, but nothing goes beyond that). I've been jokingly studying up on weather vocabulary, so I could initiate some kind of conversation with one of the mothers. But who wants to talk about the weather, when you can talk about the strike! It's so much more French anyway!

The One Hour "Carnival"

Last week, we went to our very first function at Lily's little school. I had big expectations...breaking into the parent's inner circle, a personal update from Lily's teacher on her progress and behavior, and a glimpse at Lily interacting with the friends she talks so much about. But, expectations are always dangerous. And I should know better than to set myself up for nothing but disappointment.

The school had a dress up, masquerade party for the kids. It had something to do with Mardi Gras and Easter season. The French don't really do Halloween, so I guess this is the time of year kids get all dressed up. And the costumes did NOT disappoint.

The little program was in the afternoon. We sent Lily to school with her princess costume in a bag for her to change into later with her teacher's help. When we arrived at 2:30 and I saw the amount of makeup on all the other little girl princesses, I was worried that I didn't take the event seriously enough. But my fear subsided when I first saw Lily-- from thirty feet away, through a window, I could tell she was wearing blue eye make up and red, red, lipstick! Whew...she wouldn't be the only princess not wearing makeup.

Anyway, so we showed up and the kids were still in their classrooms. All the parents and grandparents were issued out to the playground area to wait. After a couple of minutes, all the kids came out, holding hands in a single file line for a parade. There was salsa music playing in the background. The "Marcaraina" was brought back to life by these three, four, and five year-olds!

But then that was it. The only organized event was the little parade out of the building into the recess area. The kids were then set free for the next forty-five minutes. Where was the concert of songs I was expecting from the kids? Where was the "welcome and hello" from the directer of the school? No one else seemed to mind or even notice.

So while the most of the kids ran around the very small and crowded playground laughing and screaming, Phil, my mother in law, Lily and myself (the foreigners who had no idea what to do) just stood there and watched the mayhem. And that's when I realized that I had set my sights too high for this school function.

Lily was totally overwhelmed (and tired) and didn't really play with the other kids once the little five minute parade was over. She pretty much huddled around me the entire time. I didn't really talk to any other parents. On the up side, I did smile and get some smiles in return from a couple of the parents, so maybe that's a break through of some sort. Lily teacher's didn't have time to talk with us--the scene was pretty chaotic so any sort of chat was impossible.

After forty-five minutes of watching kids run around, the parents left and the children were bribed back into the school building by their teachers with the promise of a chocolate treat. And that was the end. Elaborate costumes, all the parents there...but nothing else. It seemed very strange to us...no program of any sort, no announcements of any sort, no real POINT of any sort.

Next year, I'll know not to get a babysitter for Zachary. And I'll send some red lipstick in the dress up bag with Lily's costume. Regardless, she was the prettiest princess there!

A Case of the Pre-Mondays

Just checking in to say I'm sorta having a serious case of the blahhhhs...so I'm not really into writing about much right now. There have been a couple of noteworthy events, which I will get to this week, but on this Sunday night, I'm just not capable of the undertaking at the moment.

In happy news... not everyone can rave and brag about their mother-in-law, but I can. She is here with us now, walking Lily to school, and spending the mornings with Zachary so I can continue at the language school...she does the dishes, and folds my laundry and doesn't mind my less-than-spotlessly-clean-house and thrown-together-meals. She is an enormous help and blessing.

But as I saw her US money that she was careful to keep separate from the Euros in her wallet, I had a crushing wave of homesickness come over me. She gets to go home after three weeks here with us...to "normal" stuff. But we've barely put a dent into our three YEAR commitment to this place. And three years is feeling like a very, very long time right now.

Things at my language school are going fine. I felt I made tons of progress in the first two weeks, but I'm feeling like my speaking has plateaued right now. Most weekdays I walk out the doors of the school with a little bit of confidence, but on days like today, after three hours at our little church, I realize how little I know. I am confronted again with how helpless I am to get my point across...and it just frustrating...and exhausting...and demoralizing...

So, on this Sunday night, I'm missing America. I'm missing English. I'm missing my family. I'm missing have US dollars in my wallet. I'm missing the predictable comforts of "normal". And since my mother-in-law has known me since I was thirteen-- and watched me grow up through middle school, braces, boyfriends (HER son), college transfers, wedding planning and babies being born-- this won't be the first time she sees me a little bit emotional. I guess her being here is a just enough of a taste of "normal" that it makes me miss all the rest!

I will resume funny commentary on French happenings in our lives this week...tonight, I'm just having a pity party for myself.